Time and Tide
by wayward-river
Summary: Nnoitora/Neliel: Her lack of expression, no matter the circumstance, angers him beyond belief. Drabble collection, various characters, rating changes per chapter, see inside for more info.
1. Summer

**Prompt #1/100:** Summer

**Summary:** She hates the summer rain the most.

**Rating:** G

**Characters/Pairing:** Gin/Rangiku

**A/N:** I always thought there was another dimension to Rangiku than what we see.

Also, please remember that favorites and alerts are nice, but reviews are better :3

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Rangiku hates the summer.

She hates the flowers which twine between the cobblestones. She hates the incessant bird-song, their music of lies. She hates the heat and how it makes her golden hair cling to her skin. She hates the very nature of summer; warmth and family, life and love.

Rangiku hates the summer, because it had always been his favorite season.

She hates summer rain the most. It reminds her of his lips, the color of his eyes in death.

The summer goes on.

(And there's nothing that can bring him back).


	2. Kimono

**Prompt #2/100:** Kimono  
**Summary:** He laces her with promises.  
**Rating:** PG (for barely-there references to sex)  
**Characters/Pairing:** Byakuya/Hisana  
**A/N: **I love writing these two, I think their story is very romantic, and tragic with Hisana's death.

**Again, favorites are nice, alerts are good, but reviews are better :)**

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Each morning, he helps her dress.

The imperial silk of her kimono is soft beneath his hands, its richness no softer than her skin which he covers from eyes but his own. The brilliant red cloth brings color to her pale cheeks, makes the darkness of her hair shine in the morning light. Always, Hisana's eyes are downcast in modesty, even after these three years of marriage.

Byakuya laces the obi around her, turning and turning, folding the cloth in neat, elegant corners; knuckles skimming her arms, lips on her nape, the curve of her shoulder. Every so often she will breathe his name, syllables lost in the sunrise and desire in his eyes. He laces her with promises, drapes her pale skin with love more resplendent than the finest silk or gem.

Her hand on his own outshines all the wealth in the world.

When night comes, he lets that imperial silk fall to the floor, forgotten, as she breathes his name in the dark.


	3. Smile

**Prompt #3/100:** Smile  
**Summary:** There's blood on the grass, so much blood.  
**Rating:** PG  
**Characters/Pairing:** Rukia, Kaien, Ichigo  
**A/N: **

**Remember, favorites are nice, alerts are good, but reviews are better :)**

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Their smiles blur.

When it rains, Rukia is always brought back to that night, and although it has been over forty years since, once more she finds herself in the rain, blood on her hands, the sound of her own voice, screaming above the din. But it is not Kaien she holds, now, but Ichigo, his battle with Grand Fisher over – and he has lost.

There's blood on the grass, so much blood. She can see it.

It rains, and rains, and Rukia prays that it will stop. She tries so hard to forget, but the rain always mocks her, reminds her that _his _death cannot be erased from her hands, and the weight of guilt pours down, thunderous. The lightning blinds her, and Kaien's face blurs together with Ichigo's in that one moment, and she cannot tell who she holds in her arms.

The memories are lost in the rain. Their smiles blur.


	4. Fox

**Prompt #4/100:** Fox  
**Summary:** His eyes shine in the darkness outside her window.  
**Rating:** G  
**Characters/Pairing:** Gin/Rangiku  
**A/N: Rather disappointed that my last chapter got a whopping 0 reviews.**

**Again, favorites are nice, alerts are good, but reviews are better :)**

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In the evenings, when the sky is wrought in flames and violets, she feels him watching her.

Rangiku can feel his shadow from behind the lattice doors. It follows her into every room, across the floors, up the walls, draping over her in sleep and shielding her eyes from the moonlight. Like fingers, it weaves in and out of her rich golden hair much as he was wont to do in life. The moon shines through the trellis doors, their shadows spilling into each other, the silver light a cheap mimicry of his hair. It's his eyes which shine in the darkness outside her window.

Even in death Gin is like a fox, always watching, always watching.


	5. Flowers

**Prompt #5/100:** Flowers  
**Summary:** An assassin has no need for posies.  
**Rating:** G  
**Characters/Pairing:** Soifon  
**A/N:**I wonder who it could be? :3**  
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**Reviews are better than favorites, please and thank you!**

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Someone has been sending her flowers.

At first, Soifon is suspicious and a little annoyed; she dislikes flowers and the mess they make on her desk. An assassin has no need for posies. They are impracticable to any and all functions one of her caliber possesses. So, she throws the bouquet of daisies and peach blossoms in the trash without a second thought.

Another bouquet, this time of lilacs and lavender, sits on her desk where the other had been. This one has been put in an elaborate glass vase, whereas the other was wrapped in paper. Soifon scowls as she throws the flowers away and chucks the vase outside, reveling in the smash it makes against the pavement. Afterward, she sits at her desk and does paperwork until the sun goes down.

This morning, there is yet another bunch of blossoms lying on her desk, as the other two were. Only these are her favorite – and her only favorite – orchids. Miltonia, to be exact, these a pale, milky yellow with twin spots of black on their open petals. They are tough. Resilient. They symbolize wealth and beauty, love and luxury, and Soifon has always associated them with her idol, Yoruichi Shihouin. Secretly, Soifon hopes she is the one who has been sending these flowers, but doubts it; she wouldn't have bothered sending the other two.

Nevertheless, these, Soifon keeps.


	6. Eight

**Prompt #6/100:** Eight  
**Summary:** It has been eight days since his grandson last slept.  
**Rating:** PG  
**Characters/Pairing:** Ginrei Kuchiki, mentions of Byakuya and Hisana  
**A/N: **Meant to update sooner but lost motivation to write, a little. Glad it's back.

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It has been eight days since his grandson's wife died.

Ginrei Kuchiki sits on the patio outside the family gardens, where early spring grows fresh and green. Plum blossoms litter the grass, its green fingers lacing between their petals as a lover might twine his hands into a woman's hair. Clouds drift lazily in the sky, the sun's warmth undaunted where it filters through their embrace.

It has been eight days since his grandson last slept.

The old man sighs and sips his tea, its heat doing nothing to warm the grief in his heart. He does not grieve for Hisana; she was a gentle woman who snared Byakuya's heart, nothing more. He mourns for his grandson, who will spend the rest of his days with her memory at his back and her ghost in his heart. Just as he himself has done since _his_ wife's passing all those years ago.

Ginrei sips his tea. The flowers continue to fall.


	7. Shogi

**Prompt #7/100:** Shogi  
**Summary:** To this day, Kyoraku Shunsui has never lost a game of shogi.  
**Rating:** K+  
**Characters/Pairing:** Kyoraku, Kaien  
**A/N: **Shogi is like the Japanese equivalent of Chess.

I would prefer reviews over favorites and alerts :)

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To this day, Kyoraku Shunsui has never lost a game of shogi.

He thinks that record may soon be broken.

His dark brown eyes move from the pieces before him to the young man sitting across the table. His youthful face is full of concentration, brows down and lips pursed. As if it would help him decide a move, he scratches his head, which only makes his hair messier.

"Ah!" With a great, haughty smile, he moves one piece over Kyoraku's own.

The older Shingami blinks, looks at the board again, and runs a large hand over his beard. Once more, his eyes move to the younger man, his smile wide and sure. Kyoraku sighs mightily and scratches beneath the flamboyant kimono on his shoulders. Outside the barracks are sounds of clashing wooden swords, the Thirteenth Division hard at work.

"Maa, looks like you win, Lieutenant Shiba. I'm almost ashamed of losing to someone so young!"

Kaien raises one eyebrow. "And?"

The older man slouches and reaches to his side, passing a jug of sake over the table to the smiling youth.

"Don't drink it all at once, now. That sake costs me nearly half a month's salary. But a deal is a deal."

Kaien only grins, standing and bowing before his defeated comrade. "Thank you, Captain Shunsui, for the game and the sake."

Kyoraku tilts his straw hat in acknowledgment, before the lieutenant turns and exits the room, a bounce in his step.

He waits until the young man is out of earshot before he laughs.

"Half a month's salary, I can't believe he fell for that."


	8. Blindfold

**Prompt #8/100:** Blindfold  
**Summary:** To this day, Kyoraku Shunsui has never lost a game of shogi.  
**Rating:** PG  
**Characters/Pairing:** Byakuya/Yoruichi (or is that Yoruichi/Byakuya?)  
**A/N: **No particular timeline. This was originally much shorter, but I felt it important to add a setting.

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The blindfold is red.

Yoruichi likes the color it brings to his face, the way it deepens the already dark color of his hair. She likes the way it falls softly through her fingers as she slides it over his eyes, her breath on his cheek, her lips grazing his ear. His hands on her hips are a promise softer and deadlier than the blade of Senbonzakura.

His Zanpakuto rests beside them on the bed, their clothes discarded on the floor. The shoji to her chambers is left open; the night is no longer blind to them, nor they to each other, if only temporarily. Once the blindfold comes off, they will be as they always were, but she does not think of that now, only of his skin on hers and the smirk on his mouth.

Byakuya's lips are soft as she kisses them.

Together, they become blind.


	9. Doppelganger

**Prompt #9/100:** Doppelganger  
**Summary:** She is the young woman whose eyes have been erased.  
**Rating:** G  
**Characters/Pairing:** Soifon, mentions of Yoruichi  
**A/N: **I can, surprisingly, relate to Soifon more than almost any other Bleach character.

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Soifon has two reflections.

Sometimes, she looks at herself in the mirror. It's an antique, handed down through generations; it belonged to her grandmother before her. The lacquered wood is chipped, but of fine, shining quality. The mirror itself is distorted with age. Soifon has a difficult time discerning herself within its depths.

She is the youth with hope in her eyes. The girl who thought her Lady Yoruichi would stay forever; never age, never die, never leave. Her skin is pale and her hair is soft. She does not know the weight of Captaincy.

The mirror warps, and she is the young woman whose eyes have been erased. Where once had been innocence and trust are now lineless blurs. Her eyes are black. The cut of her bangs matches the harshness of her frown. The Captain's Haori is pale and heavy on her shoulders. She is the young woman who is alone.

Soifon wipes the glass with her fingertips. Her doppelganger stares back.


	10. Demon

**Prompt #10/100:** Demon  
**Summary:** Kenpachi Zaraki is a demon by all standards.  
**Rating:** G  
**Characters/Pairing:** Kenpachi, Yachiru  
**A/N: **This was too cute to pass up.

Yachiru looks at him with large, guilty eyes.

Kenpachi Zaraki, by all standards, is a demon made flesh. He fights for the thrill and he kills without question. He does not base his morals on philosophy or religion. Anything he has learned in life, he learned from suffering and bloodshed.

He looks down at the tiny being before him, so small he could easily fit one hand about her waist. She is still gazing at him with those large, impossibly brown eyes, the color of oak leaves in Autumn. She twiddles her thumbs and tugs on her sleeping robes, waiting for him to respond.

Kenpachi's jaw cracks as he sets it, silent.

Tears begin to gather at the corners of Yachiru's eyes, and Kenpachi sighs drearily.

He puts one large hand atop her head, his palm easily encompassing her crown. He ruffles the pink strands and she sniffs.

Kenpachi Zaraki is a demon by all standards. In the battlefield.

"Don't feel bad, Yachiru. I wet the bed when I was little, too."


	11. Moon

**Prompt #11/100:** Moon  
**Summary:** They haven't truly met each other's gaze since the war.  
**Rating:** G  
**Characters/Pairing:** Hitsugaya/Hinamori  
**A/N: **Had some trouble writing this, I hope I captured Hitsugaya well.

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The moon is white and his eyes are green.

Hitsugaya's face is upturned to the skies, clear with the breath of night. Although winter has ended, the air is cold enough to chill his skin, bring color to his cheeks. A woolen haori is draped across his shoulders over the uniform, and a cup of hot tea dangles from his fingers, elbows propped on his knees. He slouches like a teenager would, careless of posture and propriety. Hitsugaya sits alone upon the rooftop of his office. At this late hour, no one can be seen in the courtyard below, his division asleep in their barracks.

The moon is white and his green eyes close.

It has been one year since the Winter War. Three-hundred and sixty-five days have done nothing. The mark of Aizen's betrayal still lingers upon all who dwell in the Seireitei. The war does not exist to the people of Karakura Town, save Ichigo Kurosaki's friends. Yet they, too, are marked.

His head goes up at a noise from behind, silver hair shining in the light, shoulders tense.

Momo emerges from the shadows not caught by the moonlight, her smile small, barely-there, but she smiles. The blackness of her uniform reminds him of a cloudless midnight sea. Her hands are behind her back, and her eyes wander. They haven't truly met each other's gaze since the war.

"Why aren't you dressed appropriately, Momo?"

Her eyes drift along the tiles. Momo shrugs in that way of hers, left shoulder rising farther than the other, chin tilted down.

"I didn't think about it, really. I'm sorry if I've disturbed you, Captain Hitsugaya."

Hitsugaya makes a plaintive noise in his throat.

"I told you! It's not 'Captain Hitsugaya' anymore. It's 'Shiro-chan.' Bed-wetter Momo."

She looks up, then, and they look at each other for the first time in ages.

The moon is white and her eyes are dark.


	12. Cape

**Prompt #12/100:** Cape  
**Summary:** Rukia is thankful for her brother's foresight.  
**Rating:** G  
**Characters/Pairing:** Rukia  
**A/N: **I read too much into things, I think.

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At first, the cape is a hindrance.

It's heavy and the ends flap incessantly in the winds of Hueco Mundo. Rukia does her best to maneuver around it, but it swings each time she moves, and the folds gathered around her throat make her feel claustrophobic. At times, she wants nothing more than to throw on the ground and let the sand swallow it up.

Then, as surely as if the sand knew her thoughts, a storm would erupt, howling in her ears, the only shield between her skin and the biting sediment the cape around her shoulders. It's then that Rukia is thankful of her brother's foresight, and she brings the cloth closer about her.

When she battles Aaroneiro, its weight is no longer a burden, but a reassurance.


	13. Impossible

**Prompt #13/100:** Impossible  
**Summary:** "Look closely, Lieutenant. I'm only going to show you this once. And I ask that you do not repeat this to anyone."  
**Rating:** G  
**Characters/Pairing:** Yachiru, Yumichika  
**A/N: **This was fun to write, Yumichika would make one hell of a father, I think.

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"I'm slightly afraid to ask, but, Lieutenant Kusajishi, what are you doing?"

The little girl stops and looks, confusedly, at the 5th seat of the 11th Division. She has to tilt her head up to look at him fully, and she thinks his eye-feathers look especially funny today.

"I'm trying to touch my nose with my tongue. Baldy said it was impossible. So I'm trying to do it."

Thus explained, she turns away and sticks out her little pink tongue as far as it will go, and, with great concentration and purpose, tries to touch her nose with it. She makes little sounds of effort, even tilts her head back, as if doing so will somehow help, but fails.

Yumichika watches the spectacle, one eyebrow raised, silent.

The 11th Division courtyard is empty save for them, and spring flowers bloom timidly through occasional cracks in the pavement. Yachiru pays them no mind, and continues to try and touch her nose with her tongue.

Yumichika sighs and places one hand upon her shoulder. Her soft brown eyes look up with both ire and curiosity.

"Look closely, Lieutenant. I'm only going to show you this once. And I ask that you do not repeat this to anyone."

So saying, the pretty-boy Shinigami sticks his tongue out, closes his eyes, and expertly touches the tip of it to his nose. Finished, he clears his throat delicately, fixes his hair, and pats the little girl on the head.

"Tell 'Baldy' to be careful of what he says to impressionable children, Lieutenant Kusajishi. Have a wonderful day."

Yachiru watches him go, grinning from one ear to the other.


	14. Hole

**Prompt #14/100:** Hole  
**Summary:** Aizen cannot admit, nor believe, that he has ever had a heart.  
**Rating:** G  
**Characters/Pairing:** Aizen  
**A/N: **Like Hitsugaya, I had a little trouble writing Aizen too.

Aizen has never considered himself human.

No, not even a "Death God." He believes he has surpassed what any living thing could call human, or even God. He is not a not Shinigami, blind as they are to true power, nor Hollow, who live only to consume. He thinks of himself as something on a completely different level of existence.

Aizen cannot admit, nor believe, that he has ever had a heart. There is simply no such thing. Hearts belong to humans and Shinigami, not to him, and in all of his existence (no, not life, not _life) _he has never understood its nature.

Gin was wrong.

There has always been a hole in his heart.


	15. Comrades

**Prompt #15/100:** Comrades  
**Summary:** Her lack of expression, no matter the circumstance, angers Nnoitora beyond belief.  
**Rating:** G  
**Characters/Pairing:** Nnoitora, Neliel  
**A/N: **It's been way too long since I've updated. I've never written Nnoitora or Neliel before, so I hope I got them right.

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"Whether you like it or not, Nnoitora, we are comrades in arms."

Nnoitora lifts his head to glare at the woman sitting opposite of him. Neliel bears herself as if she were on a throne; back straight, chin up, legs crossed. Her teal-colored hair falls in waves along her shoulders, a few strands curling beneath her throat. Nnoitora wants to reach over and strangle her.

He turns his head to glare at the wall instead. "Tch, you're crazy if you think I'll ever be any sort of comrade with you, woman."

False sunlight shines through the window, the blue skies of Las Noches eerily bright. Nnoitora watches her from the corner of her eye; her face is inexpressive, gray eyes lowered, neither smiling nor frowning. Her lack of expression, no matter the circumstance, angers him beyond belief.

Why must she be so neutral?

Neliel's eyes move to look down, thick lashes creating shadows upon her cheeks. He hates the way that one action makes him feel. Nnoitora can't name it.

Then, one corner of her full mouth lifts.

"Like I said, Nnoitora. We're comrades, whether you like it or not."


End file.
